The marshal cleared his throat. For such a short man he had a tall voice. He began telling the story that Ike had given him. Ike had to disengage from the grateful woman and stop the marshal before he rambled on too much farther. He regretted his moment’s weakness in boasting of being Augustus Yarrow, though he’d never given that name. Lying about being a deputy was bad enough, especially since he had invoked Hanging Judge Parker’s name.
“Please, take all the credit yourself,” he whispered to the lawman. “I’m not supposed to let anyone know who I am, what I’m doing, that is—”
Ike felt as if he had stepped off a tall cliff. Martin Schofield and his henchmen stepped off the Pullman onto the platform. They exchanged a few words, then Schofield walked over fast, looking all official.
“What’s this, Marshal? You’ve recovered my passengers’ money already? You are a miracle worker, sir. A true milagro.”
The marshal looked quizzically at Ike, then said, “I had a passel of help, Mr. Schofield. I told you when you came here a month back to cut the ribbon opening up the Piedras Negras spur that your trains were safe.”
“You can return my passengers’ money,” Schofield said, as if bestowing a great favor on the man. “But you were here in Eagle Pass. How’d you come by it?”
“I was right here in town, sir, I was. The varmint that robbed the train’s dead, and I have a good idea who his accomplice was. But it’s this gent here you need to congratulate.”
He pushed Ike forward.
“A minute, will you?” Ike took out the document declaring him to be owed the money and pressed it into the marshal’s hand. “Here. See that someone deserving gets the reward.”
“Who might that be?”
“A church, an orphanage, anybody,” Ike said frantically. “Tell me who and I’ll take it to them right now.” All he wanted was to put as much distance between him and the railroad president as possible. It was dark on the platform, but Schofield would recognize him in an instant if he ever caught a clear view.
If Schofield didn’t recognize him, Ike worried that Kinchloe or Smitty might. They stared hard at him from some distance away, then put their heads together as if trying to decide where they’d seen him before. Shadows and turning away hid his identity from them only so long.
Ike moved around to keep his face in darkness as much as possible, but several bright lights hung along the platform lit up the area, almost matching daylight.
“Don’t worry your head none,” the marshal said. “I’ll see that it’s taken care of. And the horse and tack, too.”
“You were a passenger on the train, sir?” Schofield came over and looked hard at Ike. “A passenger said you’d called out that you were a lawman. Is that true?” Schofield recognized him. Ike knew it from the hardness in the man’s jaw and steely gaze.
“No, not at all. I tried to make him give up. Lester Buchanan’s the robber’s name. I didn’t want to risk hitting any of the passengers with a bullet or two.” Ike knew he babbled, to no avail. His bogus identity had been accepted by too many—including Martin Schofield.
“It didn’t work,” the woman with the ruby necklace said. She pressed close to Ike and took his arm, squeezing it so hard she cut off the circulation. “He was so brave. He saved my life. I am sure of it. You should give him a reward.” She looked Schofield over from head to toe. “You are obviously an important man.”
“He’s the owner of the railroad,” Kinchloe said.
“Then you can give him a substantial reward. A lifetime pass on your line, perhaps.”
“Yes, a lifetime pass,” Schofield said ominously. The woman missed the implication that it would be a short life. Ike didn’t.
“I don’t need anything,” Ike murmured. He tried to disengage from the woman’s iron grip but couldn’t.
“That’s mighty generous of you, risking your life, tracking down the robber, then returning the loot. The least you can do is ride to your destination in my personal car.” Schofield flashed Ike a feral grin. Go into the Pullman and vanish forever. Ike knew that was the plan. Get him out of sight of the passengers, and within seconds, he’d be in a grave alongside Lester Buchanan.
Or tossed into the desert from the Pullman, never to be seen again by anyone but lizards and snakes. His fate was sealed if he ever let Schofield cut him from the herd.
Ike started to say he had reached his destination. Being on foot in Eagle Pass was better than riding with a man who had tried to get him lynched. How long would it be until Schofield draped a wire loop around his neck and told him to keep up with the train? Or Kinchloe simply gunned him down?
“My son, the hero!”
The high-pitched cry caught everyone’s attention. Ike started to wave Lily away, but it was too late. The actress knew how to make an entrance and how to draw the audience’s notice. She bustled off the car and rushed to him. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but she wormed her way between him and the appreciative passenger with the ruby necklace. Lily clung to him and then stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek.
She moved about, as if losing her balance to keep her head between his face and Schofield’s steely gaze. It was a worthy effort, but the cat was out of the bag.
“My boy. Isn’t he about the finest, bravest boy in the whole wide world? Why, when he was a wee one, hardly more than six, he saved the neighbor’s dog from a well. Let me tell you all about it.” She turned toward Schofield and squinted hard. “Are we riding in another car? I can tell you every single thing my boy’s done. This isn’t the first time he—”
“I understand why he thought it was better to face down a robber with a gun and then chase him across the desert,” Schofield said. “I have to see about the repairs to the engine.” He edged away.
Lily called after him about the time “her boy” had found a cow that had knocked down a fence and wandered off.
“Well, he did!” she called after Schofield and his men as they hurried toward the engine.
“You saved me,” Ike said softly. Driving off Schofield only postponed their showdown. For now, that was good enough. “You’re quite an actress.” He reached up and pressed a bit of putty back onto her cheek. “But you look like you’re melting.”
“It was hot in the car all afternoon,” she said, “and I haven’t had a chance to repair the makeup.”
Ike considered not getting back on the train, but then he saw the crowd of people gathering on the platform. The marshal talked loudly enough with a man to signal that this was the town newspaper editor. If he stayed in Eagle Pass, Ike had more notoriety to deal with than he wanted. Thanks to Lily, riding on the train gave some safety when it came to Schofield and his men.
He swallowed hard when he saw Schofield talking with a pair of men standing beside the engine. They kept glancing in his direction. If he stayed in Eagle Pass, Schofield’s hired killers would take care of him. As unhealthy as it was, getting back aboard the train gave him some small reprieve if he stayed among the other passengers.
Safety in numbers? That was his only hope now. And it wasn’t much of one.
It was mighty risky, but Ike had tasted what it meant to be a deputy. There wasn’t any way he could tangle with the railroad owner and his gunmen to arrest them, but flashing the brass badge had worked a miracle here. If he found out what Schofield was up to, he might be able to convince another lawman of a serious crime, a real one, and get some satisfaction seeing the railroad baron and his henchmen arrested. He owed the man something for whipping up a lynch mob back in San Antonio.
“Let’s get good seats while the others are out stretching their legs,” he told Lily. She locked her arm with his, and they boarded the train. In twenty minutes, the engine began creaking and groaning and pulling the weapons-laden cars along to an unknown destiny. But Ike intended to find out.